Wednesday, November 13, 2013


I am terrified of the screams I hear in the silence of the night. It is there in cold darkness, alone with my thoughts when the stark reality of the world around me is most beautifully illuminated in the moonlight. I am often stuck by the sharpness of the truth when viewed through my own eyes. Painful as it may be, it's easily distracted if need be.

"God speaks in the silence of the heartlistening is the beginning of prayer." -Mother Teresa

When faced with difficult decisions, I often balk at action in exchange for an extended pause for reflection and opportunity for change without purposeful action. I am also frequently guilty of waiting for a decision to be made for me by someone or something else which allows me to play my hole card...victim. If I pause long enough to place the decision squarely in someone else's hands either by default or because they have less tolerance for the situation than I, they are forced to decide the outcome, if it turns out wonderfully, I can thank God and praise myself for my part in inactivity. If it turns out poorly as it often does, I can blame the other party for jumping to a decision too hastily. 

The best course is of course to seek the counsel of others, to pray in earnest for the knowledge of God's will and the power to carry it out, and lastly to take the appropriate action at the time it should be carried out to achieve the expected result, and then adjust accordingly as the situation then dictates! But the silence of truth is deafening. 

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Broken Things

What is it about broken things which I find so alluring? I am drawn, much like a magnet to metal, to people, places and things which need repair.

I am certain with enough self-examination, I would uncover a certain unwillingness to repair my own inner workings, an egocentric selfish desire to boost my own esteem at the plight of an innocent struggling soul. I am oft misguided by some belief that what I have gained here in this journey is somehow of my own design, that it is patentable, reproducible and thus has value to others based on my own experience. In hindsight, the only real value to the journey is the journey.

Perhaps it has more to do with my own feelings of self doubt and insecurity, in compensation I surround myself with those whom I can stand above, perched upon the moral high ground, peering down at the world's bottom feeders as though I don't belong with you.

Rationalizing as I might, that I am truly unselfish in my acts and intentions, that the only payoff I seek is the sparkle in the eyes of the newly enlightened soul, but who am I kidding? Not you...

Further extrapolation reveals that my true calling is to be a vessel for God in the lives of others, that through the spiritual principle of humility, I am to be nothing and He is to be everything. All works done in my presence are of His doing and I, as powerful as I may think I am, have at once become feeble in the eyes of our Creator. Thus it is my duty to give freely of what was given to me, to be ever vigilant that my actions, my thoughts, my words, what I do and what I fail to do, do not inhibit the spiritual growth of myself or another in any way. The precise moment hinderance becomes the course, I have moved from the will of God to my own and certain peril is close at hand.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

When I go

When you find me, and you will, please cover me with something warm. I can't ever seem to find a way to warm myself. I have holes in my socks, there are just always holes, but I have one pair in my bag that I never wear, because I know that someday you will find me and I want to have socks without holes. I can't figure out why this is so important. There is the possibility that I will have wasted away to nothing, that you won't have seen nor heard from me in some time, there will be dirt and grime, bottles and cans, there will be one light bulb left, casting deep shadows throughout the room. Those are my shadows, don't take them from me by raising the shade. In the wee hours of the morning I would hide in those shadows, those were the last places with-in which I could find comfort and solace. The fear and desperation are nearly overwhelming. I know that the end is near, closer than even I know.

I can't stop here, as much as I might want to. The choice was gone so long ago, that distant memory faded in the last of the fallen snow. Outside the window I could see the glint of frost against the cold concrete. I understand that concrete, in a way that others might not. The weight of the world lay upon it's weary shoulders, yet there is not a soul to cry out to.

This is not where I should have gone, I knew this wasn't the place. How many times had you said just that, and the fell of deaf ears.

Don't bring her here with you. If for some reason she arrives, please I beg of you to clean up the remnants. I don't want her to get hurt, and there are needles on the floor under the bed.

I am sober today...but he has died


When I was brought to Alcoholics Anonymous I recieved nothing I wanted but was given everything that I needed, despite myself...The greatest gift I was given was being present at the moment when the flimsy reed turned into the powerful and loving hand of God, which in hindsight presented a relationship with a power greater than me that I never knew was possible. I keep coming back because I owe a deep debt of gratitude to the program of AA which can only be repaid through a lifetime of service, giving back what was freely given to me...

Tuesday, September 24, 2013



It's not the ones on the outside I worry most about!

I am covered in them...scars, from burns to cuts, scrapes to stitches my body tells tales of reckless endangerment of the greatest instrument I was ever given. 

It is however most compelling the scars which lie below the surface, those which cannot be seen, yet still in the dark of the night cause much pain. 

I came to a place in active addiction where I was no longer comfortable in the light with you or in the dark with me. Deep within me was a pain which I was certain you could never understand and I would likely not be able to transmit with enough weight to relieve even for a moment. I shouldered the weight of this pain for so long I had grown both weary and used to it at the same time!